


Top Dogs

by syredronning



Series: Draws Extended [2]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: F/M, Kinky, M/M, Multi, Puppy Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-20
Updated: 2010-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 07:24:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/134511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syredronning/pseuds/syredronning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and Jim are invited to a special game, courtesy of Dael.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Top Dogs

**Author's Note:**

> This is a stand-alone story in the Draws universe, written more than a year ago. It doesn't fit into the main timeline anymore, but I thought I'd share anyway.
> 
> Thanks for the wonderful beta go to cupidandpsycho! All remaining flaws are solely mine.

"Where are we going?" Jim asks as they sit in the car, Chris driving.

Without comment, Chris hands him a letter.

Jim read it. "She took quite some pains, didn't she?" he says. "An old gym in Eldrige — how did she find that?"

"There are things in life I don't want to know," Chris says firmly as the car gathers speed on the highway. The weather is warm but not too hot, and he opens the windows. Jim switches on the radio, selecting one of his preferred channels. Chris decides that suffering through outdated rock music is okay as long as he can amuse himself by listening to the famous Captain James T. Kirk singing loudly and rather off-key along with the songs.

"Guess Bones knows what she's up to?" Jim asks as they draw closer to their destination.

"I bet."

Jim shifts around, refolding his legs. "It makes me a little nervous that he didn't want to participate. A conference — what a lousy excuse."

"This is for the two of us." Chris drives with his right hand, the elbow of his other arm resting on the door as he rubs his lips with one curled hand. He shares Jim's nervousness and excitement. With Dael, you just never knew. As asked for, they are in casual wear; blue jeans, shirts and boots. Jim's jeans are tight and the bulge is showing. Chris changes the hand on the gear to reach over with his free one, thinking that some warm-up wouldn't hurt.

"Fuck…" Jim melts under his touch, slipping deeper into the seat and spreading his legs. Chris toys with him, keeping him occupied until he needs his hand to steer around the last corners, ending in the large backyard of an old, two-story, U-shaped building.

When the engine is off, they just sit for a moment, eyeing the building in silence. It looks run-down and out of business for at least twenty years. There's a faded sign on the middle building, " _Karate School_ ".

"That door, right?" Jim asks, nodding towards the entry next to the sign.

"Right." They get out off the car.

"Damn, it's like in some horror movie," Jim says as they walk towards it, the dry sand that had assembled on the broken concrete dusting under their steps. A few windows are broken, the gentle breeze whistling through their sharp edges. "You think she's doing a zombie number on us?"

The image of Dael with long teeth and dark red blood running down her chin is astonishing hot, but Chris doubts that she'd do that today — it's far too bright for that.

The green door is unlocked, and they walk through the shady corridor to the double door on which the Karate school label is written across both halves. In front of it, there's a bag and another letter. Jim picks it up while Chris goes down on one knee and inspects its contents.

"We should strip down to jeans and boots and put on the gear," Jim sums up their orders.

"Collars, leashes, mittens, knee protection," Chris answers Jim's questioning gaze, lifting a few of the items out of the open bag.

"That's, uh, something else."

"Chickening out?" Chris teases, knowing that even if they have slight misgivings, they'd both never back down from a challenge.

"In your dreams," Jim snorts, taking off his shirt. Chris appreciates the sight for a second, wistfully checking out Jim's chest before he sorts the two sets. He gets up with the collars in his hands — large, heavy, studded leather collars that look like authentic dog gear.

"They're tagged — this is yours." He wants to give one to Jim but the younger man shakes his head.

"Put it on me, please."

"Fine; hold mine for a moment." Stepping behind Jim, Chris places the collar around his neck and buckles it up. When it's done, Chris tugs the ring in front to pull Jim around into an open-mouthed kiss. They are both breathing harder when they part.

"Let me…" Jim whispers and Chris nods, his eyes involuntarily closing as the collar tightens around his throat.

"Looks hot," Jim says, and they kiss again.

"Let's put on the other stuff," Chris says roughly. _Or we won't ever make it through that door_. Minutes later, the leashes are clicked onto the rings on the collars, the knees are safely protected, and the paw-like leather mittens are securely around their hands.

"She wants us to come in on all fours, with the leash in the mouth." Jim says.

"Does she?" Chris states wryly, already having got the idea. It would kill the boots but she'd advised them beforehand to wear something that could break. "So get down," he says and gives Jim a little shove, then opens the door before he goes to the floor himself, following Jim's moving ass into the next room.

It is astonishing how limited the view is when walking on all fours; Chris only catches a vague impression of the gym (dark-grey floor, large, full of bluish light) and some dark ensemble in the middle. He gathers speed, lining up with Jim when they draw close to the unmoving statue of… Dael spread out on a large, black-and-silver motorbike. Chris can hear Jim gasp at the sight and thinks, _that's what I call catering to our fetishes_. She's sitting on it in reverse, her back to the front, one leg propped up on the seat, another one stretched out towards the floor. Her lower legs are in heavy biker boots, dark leather with silver embroidery at the top; from there his gaze drifts over her naked legs and shaved groin up to her tattooed chest. Her head is bald, the dark pattern showing prominently. The only thing she seems to wear is a long, black, half-transparent coat with wide long arms that hang over her knees, leaving little to guess. She smiles a little aloof; today, she's a demanding but essentially benevolent goddess, willing to indulge them if her pets played along. And damn, he's more than willing.

She beckons them to come closer by snipping her fingers. "Ah, my puppies," she states, reaching out in one decadent movement to retrieve the leashes from their mouths. They bump their heads as they both try to get closer to her, and her smile broadens as she pets them in turns. Chris manages to nudge his nose against her hips, but she pushes him away.

"Not yet," she says coolly, using the leashes to direct them a little away. "I think you should start right at the bottom. I've got rather dirty boots today."

 _Dirty_ is the wrong word, they are merely dusted, a light white layer of sand. Chris licks his lips as he sinks down over the first boot, bowing his head low and drawing his tongue over the width of the lateral.

"Bastard," Jim mutters under his breath as he fights to get his share of the task, for now forced to deal with the shaft. The dust is fine and tasting of very little; the uncomfortable part is the bee's wax that has been used on the boots before that and now sticks to Chris' tongue.

She changes position, bringing her upper leg down so that the boot is hanging freely. "And the other one." This time, Jim manages to catch the vamp, and Chris resigns to licking the upper part, once in a while letting his tongue flicker over her skin. This time, she doesn't tell him off.

"Good puppies," she lauds them and pats their noses, then feeds them some water from a bottle. Half of it spills over their bodies, flowing down in rivulets. They are now both kneeling between her legs, her glistening sex rather close in front of them.

With true Kirk cockiness, Jim leaps forward, placing his mittens left and right on her upper legs, and nuzzles her clit. She slaps his head, but she doesn't shove him back; instead she seems to encourage him when he starts licking her. The ugly beast of jealousy and possessiveness raises its head in Chris' mind, and he growls, trying to force the competitor away. For a moment he succeeds, burying his face between her legs, all his usual reticence for that particular act forgotten. He circles the tip of his tongue over her clit, playing with the spot in the middle. She's aroused, the flesh swollen and hot, and his own arousal grows as he feeds hers. It doesn't last long, though; that sneaky bastard of a rival all but climbs his back, forcing him down from his upright position and onto the ground in front of the bike. Annoyed, he turns and lashes out for Jim; no way the kid is getting the better of him.

"Stop, both of you!" she orders, pulling them apart. "If you want to fight, you'll do it right." She slips down the bike and pulls their leashes, walking them to the back of the gym. There are some mats on the ground, forming a large rectangle. _An arena_ , Chris realizes — she'd planned all of this. He growls and withdraws as she attempts to removes the leash, showing her that he doesn't like being manipulated like this. She pulls him towards her, going down on one knee. "Just what you both need," she whispers softly, but her gaze is cool and her grip on the leash unyielding as she pulls his head down. He gives in to the force until his forehead meets the hard ground, both hating and loving it — _damn hormones_. She removes the leash and goes up. His ears follow the sound of her boots until she stops; only then he dares to look up. She stands at the side of the mats, a dark smile on her face.

"The winner will be allowed to satisfy me. The loser… well, we'll see."

She claps her hands, and even though some higher part of Chris tries to resist, the animal part just leaps onto the mat and starts circling the rival. There is just enough real competition between Jim and him to make this emotionally serious and _real_ — this is still the guy who's taken his ship and fucks his woman, and a surprising flare of resentment is feeding the irritation that Jim would dare try to fight him over Dael.

They eye each other. Jim looks cautious but there's also a grin on his face; it's a game to him, a play. Chris makes a little leap, testing the waters — Jim is quick in answering, evading to the side with a snort. For a while, they circle around each other on the mat in a strange dance, both jumping forward and retreating in turns without getting into a serious fight. Chris challengingly starts to growl, and at last Jim makes the expected leap towards him.

They soon roll around on the mat, a mixture of wrestling and kickboxing that would surely result in a lot of interesting bruises tomorrow. Chris would like to think they're evenly matched but Jim's a lot younger and fucking agile, so he's almost resigned to losing — _almost_ — when Jim gives him a perfect opening and, without a second thought, he shoves his elbow right into his opponent's jaw. There's a flicker of surprise before Jim slumps to the side, quite out of it.

 _Well, boy, maybe you were holding back but I wasn't._

Chris rolls him over and shouts out in victory, pushing his groin against the sexy ass. Damn, he wants to fuck him. He wants to fuck _something_.

"You can have him or me," her voice reaches his ears, and he has to take a few deep breaths to get a better grip on reality. Then he turns his head; she is close by, the coat open, her smirk inviting and challenging. She'd played them off against each other on his weakest spot and although it obviously worked, he is a bit annoyed, well, maybe he is a bit _pissed_.

And maybe it's exactly what she wanted, because when he leaps at her, she's not in the least surprised but goes down on her back with no discernible resistance. He's kneeling between her legs seconds later, humping her a few times before realizing with a growl that _of course_ his pants are still closed. She smiles as she notices the problem. Her fingers find the zipper and open it, digging deep to get out his stiff dick. It hurts a little as it scratches along the zipper's teeth but that's forgotten when he harshly pushes into her with a deep, needy groan. She hooks her legs around his hips, encouraging him further, and he gives as good as he's got, pumping his length into her again and again, hard and fast.

He's close to coming when a movement next to her head catches his eye; there's Jim kneeling with both mittens on his still clad groin, frantically rubbing up and down it with his eyes on the copulating couple.

Chris stops abruptly, his lips drawing into a victorious smile upon Dael's frustrated gasp.

"Open Jim's fly," he orders roughly, and after a moment of confusion, she reaches over. Jim is too far away but immediately crawls forward when he understands her intent. Moments later Jim's hard member is out of the jeans.

"Suck him off," Chris states. "Do it!" She doesn't like that a lot and he admittedly loves to see her hesitation — _in for a penny, in for a pound_ — and now it's their moment of a little fun. He sharply pierces her with his cock to underline his order, and she arches into his movement.

Jim of course doesn't hesitate at all and kneels half over her, his glans poking left and right of her lips before she gives in, turns her head to the side and guides the member into her mouth.

"Ah, fuck, yeah," Chris hears Jim muttering, and takes it as his cue to resume his own fucking. Everything is hot and wet, and they make fat, popping sounds with every pull and push. Chris tries to hold back but the sight of Jim rocking his naked ass in front of him and the gasped, needy, pleading sounds that fill the room are just too much. He comes explosively, filling her up with his sperm in hot, pulsing rushes, then leans over her to hold her down on the ground while Jim rides out his own orgasm. Seconds later, Jim withdraws and sags down on the side, taking sharp, rapid breaths.

Dael turns her head and spits out Jim's come with a glare at Chris. She may love them but there are _limits_ — and sometimes, stretching these limits is hot.

"We love you too," Chris states with a grin and crawls over her to kiss her, licking the stickiness from her lips and out of her mouth. Balancing a little, he manages to stroke her clit with one mitten, easing the friction with the slickness that pours out of her. She curls with a whimper, rather close to coming from the sound of it. He toys with her, always stopping right before she'd jump down her plateau. Finally he gazes at the refreshed captain whose eyes get alert upon the silent contact.

"Jim, come here and lick her."

Without hesitation Jim crawls over and goes down flat on the ground, his face instantly buried between her legs, mittens left and right of her labia.

Chris uses his teeth to open the first of his own mittens and free his hand. "Good doggie," he says and pats Jim's head encouragingly before he undoes the second mitten. "Do you taste my come on her? Lick it all up, Jimmy-boy, yeah, go deep with your long puppy tongue and eat her out." His words are answered with an even more enthusiastic Jim.

As always, Chris is a little envious of Jim's total enthusiasm for this task and what it does to his woman but he ignores it in favor of memorizing the scene as _damn fucking hot_ , Dael debauched on the dirty floor of a run-down gym, and Jimmy-dog's paws keeping her legs open wide while his tongue laps at her hot nub. Her body is squirming and trembling, and she mutters pleas as her hands bury into Jim's hair to urge him on.

At last Jim takes pity on her and pushes her over the edge. She screams into the gym in a way Chris had never heard from her before, ear-splitting and more on the edge of agony than pleasure. When the scream dies, she sags back, trying to catch her breath.

"That was… whoa." She smiles, eyes closed, and Chris lies down at her right side to cover her body and kiss her. Jim nips a few last kisses onto her clit before she slaps him away, then he mirrors Chris' position and kisses her, kisses them both.

"Fucking hot," Jim murmurs and strips out of the mittens. "Although I hurt just about everywhere."

They rest on the mat for a little while until they untangle with small sighs and groans, all a little roughed-up. Dael miraculously seems to restore the quickest, brushing the dirt out of her pretend-to-be-a-coat with easy movements.

"Get clean," she says and points to the door, and the two men go out, get rid of the gear and into their shirts and walk to the run-down restroom for a brief cleaning. The faucet doesn't work but there is a large bottle of water and a few paper towels waiting for them. Chris takes it first, washing his hands and face without caring that the water drips to the floor.

When Jim bends over the washbasin to splash water in his face, Chris lends him a helping hand with the bottle. "Sorry for being a little rough," he says.

Jim laughs, tilting his head up from between his hands. "You _punched_ me, man. Knocked me out for a second."

"I know. I'm really very sorry."

Jim straightens and dries his face with his t-shirt. "You can be pretty intimidating when you want something that much, do you know that?"

"I'm not usually that way about people, but yes, I know." Chris cradles Jim's chest from behind. Their eyes meet in the mirror. If Chris could get anything up right now, he'd bend Jim over and fuck his lights out. At his age, he really should keep Viagra in his pockets.

"She's yours, Chris," Jim says quietly, rubbing over his hands. "I just borrow her once in a while."

It sounds like an arrangement Chris could live with, and they all pretend that's how it works between them. It just isn't all there is.

"Let's go back inside," Chris says and walks out of the restroom, Jim at his heels.

Dael has also changed clothes, although her biker outfit consisting of black leather looks almost as hot as the other one.

"Where did you get that beauty?" Jim asks.

She leans against it. "It's my bike."

Chris' eyes widen in surprise. "Yours?"

She winks. "Just kidding. I rented it for the day. For the game and, well, for a ride." She looks at Jim, and Chris gets the message. Jim steps forward, touching the machine reverently — then searches his gaze, waiting for clearance.

"Go ahead," Chris says a little roughly. "Just don't break your necks or I'll never live it down with the doc."

"I'll be careful," Dael says and takes the driver seat. She looks perfect on it, and when Jim climbs the machine behind her, it makes for a perfect couple. True head-turners.

Dael beckons Chris close and pulls him into a kiss. "Stop looking like that," she then whispers in his ear, her lips brushing over his earlobe. "I'll make it up to you."

"You better," he mutters back. "Godspeed and have a safe ride."

She nods and starts the engine. The pulsing reflects in the room, resounding much louder than on a street. Jim gives Chris a hesitant, apologetic look, which makes Chris step towards him, cradle his neck and kiss him too. "It's all right, Jim," he says. "Enjoy it, okay? I know how much you miss your bike."

"You're great, Chris," Jim replies with a sigh, briefly pressing his head against Chris' shoulder. "Maybe we can rent one together another time."

"Yes, we could do that." Chris steps back and grins. "Out with you." He waves them off, his gaze following the machine until it leaves through the door of the gym.

As if on cue, his communicator goes off.

"They're on their way?" Leonard asks without ado.

"Yes."

"Good. Damn kids need to work some adrenaline off or I'll strangle them before the end of shore leave. Come get me at the conference at Fairbanks Center?"

"Sure."

"Thought we could enjoy some time together."

Chris shakes his head, wondering when the other three parts of the cloverleaf had turned into such conspirators. "I'd like that," he answers anyway, because he could use a quiet evening.

"There's that new gay sauna that's been recommended to us," the doc says. "They've got a party tonight. I always wondered what sex in a whirlpool feels like."

 _There goes the quiet evening._

"Don't tell me Jim and you never tried that," Chris replies as he slowly walks out of the gym.

"Remind me to tell you the story about that pool on Altair one day. I'll wait in front of the center." The connection closes, and Chris puts the communicator away. Sauna party with the doc — there are worse things in this universe. He pulls himself together, knowing he'd be in for some snarky remarks and a round with the medikit when the doc sees his bruises.

But _after_ the sauna, Chris decides — he'd definitely want to carry those hard-earned marks for tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Comments are love :)


End file.
